


Eostre II

by FrangipaniFlower



Series: Time and Tide [7]
Category: Homeland
Genre: AU, Establishing a life together, F/M, Healing, Love, Post S6, Sex, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 22:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14412072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: Easter Sunday and the night before Carrie‘s birthday.





	Eostre II

It has been cold all day, and when Quinn wakes up from a nap in the later afternoon, he hears the patter of rain against the window.

He allows himself a moment to take stock of where he is and what he hears. Carrie's bedroom. Her voice and Franny's in the living room. It sounds like they're playing a game.

Franny had been up early. He'd been surprised that Carrie had managed to prepare an Easter egg hunt for her daughter in the house and yard; she'd gotten up at an ungodly hour in order to get that done in time.

There had been a moment of levity when he'd advised Franny on how to divide the back yard into squares on an imaginary grid, and how to search methodically. When Carrie had noticed what he and Franny were doing, she'd mock-slapped his arm and told Franny not to listen to him — the rule of chaos was always more fun. Of course Franny hadn't understood why he'd huffed at laugh at that, but she was soon distracted by her chocolate eggs.

Afterward, Carrie had taken Franny to a late morning Easter mass. When they'd returned, he joined them upstairs for lunch, and then they'd all played until his vision lost focus, his speech began to slur, and his stutter became more pronounced.

Noticing, Carrie had gotten up to refill Franny's water glass; on the way to the sink, she'd brushed her hand over Quinn's shoulder and casually suggested a nap.

And without a second thought, he'd gotten up, shuffled into her room, and crashed onto her bed.

What he doesn't know that Carrie had stood there in the doorjamb an hour before, watching him sleep for a few minutes while Franny went into her room to find her current obsession, the Ladybug Game.

Now, he wonders if he should get up and rejoin them. But he doesn't. He chooses instead to lie there, listening to the rain and to their voices, allowing Franny's sing-song and Carrie's calm voice, punctuated by occasional laughter, to wash over him. It's soothing, and the daylight is fading.

The last thing he can remember thinking before he drifts off is how amazing it is. With all he'd lost, he's grown into _this_ ; being part of _this_. And it had happened so slowly he hadn't even noticed it when it started.

 

It is dark when he wakes up again, Franny‘s voice suddenly very close.

„Quinn, Quinn, it’s dinner time. Mom ordered pizza. It’ll be here soon.“

And then she claps her hand and commands _„Alexa, switch on the lights“_ and giggles with delight when he has to blink against the sudden brightness.

„Sleepy head. Mommy said you had too many chocolate eggs and that’s why you are so tired. We are all going to watch a movie now and have pizza on the floor. Like a picnic. Only inside.“

Getting into an upright position with a groan, his eyes fall on a small plastic container on the nightstand – his afternoon meds, neatly sorted.

Franny hasn’t exaggerated, they‘ve prepared the living room with a blanket, plates and cutlery, a small juice box for Franny and a bottle of water for him and Carrie.

„We thought since the weather‘s too ugly to do anything outside we‘ll do the next best thing,“ Carrie says, smiling as she enters the room, „did you sleep well?“

For a moment he wonders if he should be embarrassed but then the doorbell rings and Carrie rushes past him, her hand touching his for a brief moment, and when she comes back Franny has already offered him the spot on the outer corner of the blanket, where he can lean with his back against the couch. Once he is seated she grabs a cushion from the couch and stuffs it under the hollow of his knee. 

„Mom said you can’t do dinner on the floor but I said you can, with a pillow,“ she comments her efforts to make him sit comfortably and looks at him expectantly.

„It’s f-fine.“

They have dinner on the floor and watch a movie about a dog named Otis and a cat named Milo, and what appears like a real snoozefest in the beginning turns out to be quite entertaining, especially because Franny enjoys the film so much.

Kitten Milo is a real daredevil and gets himself into the biggest mess in no time and so it is just a question of minutes until he and his best friend - pug puppy Otis - are separated and Milo finds himself on a hazardous trek.

Halfway through, the little girl turns her head and casts a glance towards Carrie first, and then to Quinn.

„Friends help each other. That’s why Otis follows Milo everywhere and fights for him.“

But then comes a tension-filled scene with a bear and she climbs Quinn‘s lap and hides her face in his shirt.

„Otis will find him, right?“

Quinn looks to Carrie who gives a reassuring nod.

„Yes, Otis will find him. Just in time. But he will find him, and take him home,“ he tries to calm Franny, who slowly turns her head back to the screen again, „and then he‘ll be safe.“

„Such a troublemaker,“ Franny sighs when Milo steals a dead muskrat from a fox, only to get his nose scratched and to find out that it tastes disgusting, „poor Otis. That Milo is really a piece of work. Why does he keep getting himself into so much trouble?“

Milo has to survive and escape many more adventures and Otis has to get really inventive to save him but finally they both ride off into sunshine - well, they find a cat-lady and a pug-lady and live happily ever after on their farm with many more kittens and puppies.

Carrie’s eyes are resting on his face when he phrases his answer, and he knows it is an important one.

„Maybe that‘s his nature. Maybe he‘ll learn to be more careful. But even if not, he already learnt the most important lesson.“

„Which one?“ Franny asked.

„That he has a friend who helps him and loves him no matter what.“

„That’s a happy ending.“

„The best, yes.“

„And staying home in the beginning would have been boring.“

„Yes,“ Carrie agrees, „and maybe he needed to go on his journey and live through all these adventures to understand that he already has all he was looking for at home.“

„But then he wouldn’t have met Joyce.“

Quinn struggles for a moment to remember the name of the white cat Milo fell in love with and has to smile to himself as he tries to memorize the names of animals in a kids‘ movie.

„No, that’s right. So it all happened for a reason?“ Quinn asked the girl.

„The snake was ugly. But the raccoon was fun.“

„It was,“ Carrie interrupts Franny‘s musings, „but now it’s bedtime, little bug.“

„Night Quinn.“

„Night Franny.“

————-

 

After cleaning the living room he notices Carrie isn’t back yet back and so he goes downstairs, opens a drawer in the nightstand and takes a small turquoise box out, weighing it in his hand.

He stands there for a few minutes, images from the past months recurring in mind only to vanish then again.

He wonders why this is still so difficult. But then again, maybe it isn’t so difficult at all.

————-

Carrie is taking a shower when he comes back upstairs. But she‘s lit a candle in her bedroom which softly illuminates the room and has a nice scent. It is in a small porcelain container with a spout in one corner; he‘s never seen it before.

Carrie is only wearing a towel when she steps back into the room, not surprised to find him leaning against the door jamb.

„So, you Otis or rather Milo? Adventurer or saviour?“ she teases, her smile not reaching her eyes.

„Some of both maybe“, he answers, pulling her close, his good hand deftly undoing the knot which holds her towel in place.

She leans against him, naked, her body warm from the shower, the outside rain still knocking against the windows.

„God, Quinn, why‘s that always so good,“ she whispers against his lips when he cups her ass and pulls her slightly upwards, feeling his own arousal awakening again.

„I don’t know. I d- don‘t care. But I want you,“ he whispers back before meeting her for a kiss which soon deepens.

„You had me just last night,“ she teases when his hand slowly caresses her body while she trails kisses along his jawline and neck, her hands finding their way under his shirt.

„It’s never enough. N-never will be.“

„I know,“ she whispers, leaning back a little so their eyes can meet, „I want you too.“

„I‘ll be gentle,“ he promises, pulling her in for another kiss, the images of last night still vividly in his mind, knowing she‘ll probably be a little tender after the night before.

Carrie helps him to undress, her hands roaming over every inch of the skin revealed, enjoying the smooth warmth beneath her fingers.

Then she takes the candle, blows it out and places in on her night stand, smiling when she sees his confused expression.

„It’s a massage candle, the flame melted it to oil. That’s what the little spout is for.“

„A massage candle. I see.“

„What?“

He hesitates a moment, remembering how she massaged him just last night and how good that was, how much it eased his pain. And thinking that she bought this candle to try to make that _normal_ and not his special need – he doesn’t know how to handle this.

„Hey, Quinn.“

She’s sitting on her bed now, pulling his hand to make him sit next to her, and climbs his lap to straddle him when he does so.

„I‘ve had that for a while. I didn’t buy it because of yesterday.“

He doesn’t answer, still lost in that thought but aware of her warm body in his lap, his arm wandering around her back, holding her.

He thinks about how normal it should be to use both of his hands to give her a massage, how he should be able to lift her and place her on the bed, his hands simultaneously exploring her body and working her muscles – and that he‘ll probably never will be able to this.

And then he thinks about the small box he placed in the drawer of her nightstand when she was still under the spray, and that it’s just another hour or two until it’s her birthday, and that she didn’t mention it a single time, probably because she didn’t want him to feel pressured to make any preparations. 

„Lie down, it’s your turn then,“ he releases her from his embrace, watching her laying down and stretching her arms, swallowing when he thinks about the vulnerability she allows him to see.

The oil is still warm when he dips a finger in to test the temperature but not too hot, so he pours it along her spine in a thin stream, seeing her buttocks flexing when he reaches her lower spine.

Sitting on her right side, his knees touching her hip, his right hand almost covers the whole width of her shoulders and he can place the weak one left just above her ass.

Carrie sighs when he starts moving his right hand, long strokes following her spine, all the way down to her ass and up again, surprised when she exhales deeply and seems content with what he is doing. His hand is gliding over her skin, supple from the warm oil, and she exhales a deep sigh when he digs his fingers into the muscles of her outer shoulder, the heel of his hand pressing against her spine, his fingers kneading and circling.

He covers her whole back with these movements, just the right pressure, not too hard to be painful, not too weak to make it uncomfortable, gentle pressure, teasing and cosseting her, enjoying the way she melts into the cushions and the soft sighs she lets out, now and then.

After pouring some oil over the small of her back he extends his ministrations down to her ass, first gently spreading the oil over the delicate skin, then kneading her buttocks, his fingers slowly venturing deeper with each and every move.

Carrie bends her leg to give him better access, her ass wiggling under his hand when he makes contact with her labia for the first time.

But he won‘t give her this, not now, it‘s too soon. So he moves his hand up again, starting to work his way along her spine again, more warm oil, firm pressure, Carrie writhing under his touch, her head turned to his side now so she can see him.

He leans in to kiss the corner of her mouth when he reaches her ass again.

„Damn it Quinn,“ she whispers when he keeps his hand still.

„Good?“

„ _Very_ good.“

„So no turning around?“ He briefly thinks about covering her breasts with that oil and kneading and sucking them until she‘ll beg but Carrie interrupts that train of thought with a sweet moan when his fingertips ventured little further, between her buttocks.

„Fuck Quinn, no, no turning around. Just like this.“

He remembers the night before, having her while she was bent over the bed, moving in countermotion to his thrusts, watching himself entering her, and is pleased with the soft whimper Carrie exhaled when the tip of his finger trails along her rim, circling her back entrance with gentle pressure, the soft tissue smooth and moist from a few remaining drops of the oil.

Carrie feels him scooting a little further down the mattress, the delicious pleasure subsiding for a moment when he needs his hand to support himself, and then she feels his arm bending her leg a little further, going around her hip then, and then she is lifted and pulled into his lap, still lying on her tummy, her leg can easily embrace his hips now - and then his hand is back on her ass with more warm oil, caressing and exploring, making her shiver with desire.

She feels him hard against her slit, the tip of his cock deliciously rubbing against her clit and sending her into a frenzy when he starts to do it deliberately, his fingers back to sparking new waves of desire when he caresses the most sensitive spot, the tip of his finger carefully entering for just a millimeter or two, adding to the immense pleasure she feels.

Carrie raises her hips a little to give him a better angle and felt himself smoothly gliding into her, filling her, and she succumbs to his slow cadence, his presence in her body, his tenderness and warmth, and the lust and longing she feels.

Quinn pushes heartbreakingly slowly, as gentle as he promised, adjusting the depth of his strokes to what he senses she enjoys most, and it’s so good that she thinks she‘ll need to cry and stop breathing.

It’s then when his weaker hand comes up to rest on her back, slowly caressing the oily skin, his heart ready to break with the love he feels for her.

When he is sensing she’s nearly there he withdraws his other hands, wraps his arm around her hip for the last few thrusts and pulls her back against him, pushing into her with shorter strokes now, and it’s what releases a wave for her building from deep within, taking her breath away.

He feels it, she’s trembling around him and beneath his hands, sees her stretching her arms over her head, fisting the sheets, she‘s gasping with short and high whimpers, calls out his name, and after the last and hardest stroke he just keeps her there, her ass pressed against his abdomen, and feels his orgasm washing over him.

She loves to hear and feel him, his breathing ragged now as he comes with a moan, his fingers leaving a trail of heat on her skin, and she loves to know that this is how she makes him feel.

He lets go of her when she wishes he wouldn’t, not yet, but then he falls on the mattress next to her, his good arm open for her to turn and lean up against him. His forehead rests against hers and they lie there, their breathing evening out, her hand caressing his back with lazy strokes.

When Quinn rolls on his back with a deep sigh she sits up and looks down on him, thinking that the way he occupies her bed, the span of his arms almost covering the whole width of the mattress is a pretty accurate image of how he occupies her life now.

„Why are you smiling?“

„Nothing,“ she shakes her head, „shower? I need one.“

She opens his ankle brace and peels it off before he has time to consider how he feels about it and then disappears to the bathroom, starting the water, so he can sort himself and get up. She‘s already under the spray when he steps in after washing his hands, and the water makes the remainders of the oil on her back even more lithe and slick. He helps her wash it off, and then they just stand there for a while longer, Carrie‘s head resting against his chest, her arms around him, the warm water washing over them.

————————

Carrie’s already sitting in bed, propped up against a pillow, when he rejoins her back in the bedroom.

Instead of going to his side of the bed - _and when did it become my side_ \- he sits down on hers, ignoring her quizzical glance, and fiddles with the drawer to get the box out, because if it’s not now it’s probably never.

He didn’t ask them to wrap it – the turquoise box probably speaks for itself anyway – so he can snap it open with his thumb. He wishes he could use both of his hands and take her hand now when he’s going to do this, but then Carrie takes the box from his hand and places it on her palm and holds it for him.

„Give me your hand p-please.“

Carrie looks at him when he slips the slender golden ring over her finger, the smooth curves of the metal forming an infinity symbol. He closes his hand around hers, her smaller fist completely covered by his, and finally looks up to meet her eyes.

„Happy birthday,“ is what he manages to say before a tear rolls down her cheek and he lets go of her hand to stop it with his finger, „don‘t cry now please.“

Carrie shakes her head and smiles, but her eyes are welling up with more tears.

„It’s good tears, Quinn, just good tears.“

„You‘d m-make very happy if you‘d wear this.“

Carrie looks at him, that man who’s been back in her life for almost a year now, and what he means to her, and she sees the silent plea in his eyes and probably the fear as well, and she thinks about how he - they - changed and that in fact, not much had changed after all. And yet they sit here now, in her bedroom, and somehow crossed that long path which started years ago.

She places her hand with the ring on his.

„Of course I‘ll wear it.“

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my dear editors! And Ashley, that was really „shit and giggles“


End file.
